Darkest Highlander Read Free Page A

“I’ll take care of yer Sonya, milord. Eat while ye can.”
    My Sonya.
    Broc quite liked the sound of that.
    With nothing else to do, Broc sat. He was hungry, but he could go days without food if he needed to. The god inside him protected him in more ways than one.
    The smell of the food drew him, however. He ate some bread as he watched Jean. Then he tried the meat while she cleaned Sonya’s wound.
    Soon he was devouring everything on the trencher, glancing up every now and again to see Jean’s progress. She was gentle with Sonya, and a sight better than Broc’s own large hands would have been.
    By the time Broc was done with the meal, Jean had finished tending Sonya.
    “I’ve put some salve on the wound to help draw out the infection,” Jean said. “Her fever worries me. I’ve some herbs that can help. They need to be mixed with water and forced down her.”
    “I’ll do it.” Anything as long as it made Sonya better.
    “I’ll bring it to you, then.” Jean nodded approvingly as she gathered the now empty trencher and goblet and started toward the door.
    Broc rose and followed her. He raked a hand down his face and let out a long sigh once Jean had left. Unable to stay away from Sonya, he strode to the bed and inspected her hand.
    Jean had done a fine job of cleaning and bandaging the wound. Broc just hoped it was enough. He thought of Phelan, another Warrior who had escaped Deirdre’s prison. Phelan’s power was in his blood. His blood could heal anything.
    Broc would do whatever it took, even returning to Cairn Toul Mountain and Deirdre, if he could get some of Phelan’s blood for Sonya.
    He was tempted to search for Phelan, but he didn’t want to leave Sonya, not when she was ill. She had always been so vivacious, so full of life. Seeing her lying still, her skin pallid and her glorious red locks dulled, made Broc feel as if someone had ripped out his heart.
    What had Sonya been thinking in leaving MacLeod Castle? She had been protected there. She had been part of a family. It was a mixed family of immortal Warriors and Druids, but it was the only family Broc had.
    He stayed there because it took more than sickness and a sword wound to kill Warriors. And there had been Sonya with her healing magic for the Druids.
    Broc had thought the curse wouldn’t be able to touch those around him. But the reality was that it could—and it did. Anice was gone forever. He had vowed to keep her safe, but he’d been unable to fulfill that promise.
    Did he dare try to honor it with Sonya?
    As much as he knew he should return to MacLeod Castle and allow Fallon to retrieve Sonya, he couldn’t. Not yet. He needed time with Sonya. Time and memories which would sustain him in the decades to come.
    He leaned against the wall to let his gaze feast upon Sonya’s beauty. So many years he had spied on Deirdre, carrying out her orders when he had no choice, and saving everyone he could. There had been times he had almost lost himself in that evil mountain of hers.
    Each time he got close to giving in, he would visit Sonya. She never knew of it. He would hide, content to just watch her as he did now. Her mere presence eased him. Appeased his rage and quickened his blood.
    How many times had he told himself he could never have her? How many times had he tried to keep his distance from her?
    And then she had traveled to MacLeod Castle.
    It had been a shock when he learned she was there. Seeing her every day, hearing her voice, touching her, was both a gift and a bane.
    To have her so near, but to never have her.
    It was worse than the years he had been locked in Deirdre’s prison and tortured daily. It was worse than being taken from his family and being able to do nothing as his god was unbound within him.
    For so many decades Broc had kept to himself at Cairn Toul because of the curse and because he trusted no one. Then he had betrayed Deirdre and helped the other Warriors kill her. Except her black magic had prevented her